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User blog:SkyrimsShillelagh/Twelve Stars of Taneth: Chapter 7
Chapter 6 Thanks for reading, as always, be wary of errors. Normally, I'd put the page links here, but if you've read this far you probably don't need them. I do recommend looking at Tidon's page briefly, though, so you can see what he looks like. Chapter 7: Only One Shall Remain Tidon watched his father vanish into the room, and overheard the voices of him and his mother talking. “Juliette, I’m going ta take the boys out.” “The boys?” “Tidon and Hakim. Give’em a feel for town.” “Alright. Come back with the right kids this time. Remember what you did with the twins.” “It was one time. And at that age, they’re all just identical sacks’a meat. Not my fault really.” “They’re sacks of meat you’d better hold onto if you want to keep on sleeping inside.” “Hey, no need to go wielding threats around, I got it handled, locked down and tight.” “Uh-huh.” “You just hang out, looking pretty. Be back in a few hours.” He popped back into the hall, and noticed Tidon standing there. “How’s it going, big boy?” Papa asked him. Tidon was quiet, staring up at his father, mouth closed in a straight line. Papa frowned, crouching down to Tidon’s eye level, suddenly concerned. “Everything alright? Yeah look like you’re about to take a bad poop.” It took Tidon a moment to answer. “We’re going outside?” “Yup. You alright with that?” Tidon nodded. “Come on, then.” He said, rising and holding out his hand for Tidon to take. The little boy shook his head, and Papa allowed him his sovereignty. His father proceeded down the hall, and Tidon had to work twice as fast to get his little legs moving to keep up with him. They headed into one of the sitting rooms, where Hakim’s set-up was lain out. He had dozens of little toy figures scattered across the ground in front of him, animals made from shiny porcelain. Tidon preferred the tin soldiers. He thought the animals were dumb. Hakim was walking the animals around, making them talk. Doctor Lion and Commander Mammoth were apparently on a mission to save Gregory the Dragon from the mountain of pillows he was stuck on. Tidon briefly considered joining. He would’ve brought his soldiers in her to fight Hakim’s toys, but that had made his older brother cry last time, and he’d gotten in trouble with his mom and the wet nurse for that. Tidon had just been confused on my it had upset Hakim so much, and the chastising he’d gotten seemed unwarranted. He’d only been playing. “Hakim.” His father called to the little boy. Hakim didn’t look up right away, having to drag himself away from his very important duty. “What?” He demanded, with the rudeness only the very young could perfect. “We’re going out for a bit. You, me, and Tidon.” Hakim stared at his dad for a moment, then looked past to Tidon, before looking back to their father. “I don’t wanna.” “Come on, it’ll be fun.” Papa said, going to kneel by Hakim. “This’ll be waiting for you when we get back. You know how busy I get, it’s not often I have free moments to spend with you guys.” Hakim frowned, considering this, then reluctantly set his toys aside and stood. “Okay.” Papa held out his hand for Hakim to take, and the little prince fit his small hand into his father’s much larger one. “Come on, Ty.” He called to the younger al Din, and the little boy scurried to catch up to his father and brother. They passed through the palace hallways, servants bowing to their father as they passed, guards on duty saluting him. Papa had given orders that no one was supposed to bow to any of the children, so that nothing went to their heads, he said, and so they remembered who was actually in charge. That didn’t bother Tidon, he couldn’t understand how people would bow to him since he was so small. They descended the grand marble stairs out of the palace and turned towards the stables. Papa had them stand outside as he went in, and he came out with his horse. Hakim shied away from the massive stallion, as Papa escorted it over, but Tidon wasn’t afraid. He was too enraptured by just how big the animal was. “Alright, boys, here we go.” Papa scooped up Hakim, to place him on the horse, and the little prince squirmed and resisted, kicking the air. “No!” Hakim protested furiously. “No!” “He’s real friendly--” “No!” He nearly twisted himself from his father’s grip, forcing Papa to set him on the ground. “Okay, alright.” He relented, sounding more than a little annoyed, but Hakim was too frightened of the animal to react to the tone Papa had taken. Papa never got upset. “Relax, only a horse.” He turned to Tidon. “Can I put you up there?” Tidon glanced at the horse. It looked back at him. I was here before you were. The horse seemed to be saying. But we can have a truce as long as you stay on my good side. Tidon turned back to Papa and nodded. He grinned, scooped Tidon up, and set the little boy down on horseback, in front of the saddle. It took Tidon a moment to get comfortable, but once he did, he turned back to his father, a little uncertain. “You’re doing great.” He said, reaching up to Tidon, who was now high of the ground, and ruffling the boy’s hair. Tidon sneezed, and shook his head once Papa let him go. “See, Hakim, Tidon did it just fine, and he’s younger. You gonna man up or are you gonna hafta walk like a chump?” “I’m a man!” Hakim protested. “Yeah, ya are. And men ride horses, only babies walk. Come on.” Papa scooped him up, and put Hakim on the back edge of the saddle. The boy was stiff and reluctant, but didn’t vehemently resist like last time. Both kids up, Papa slid into the saddle. He had Hakim wrap his arms around his waist, and leaned forward to grab the reins, so that Tidon was between his arms. “You two wanna go fast or slow?” “Slow.” Hakim said immediately, the idea of riding fast on a horse likely frightening to him. Tidon frowned, trying to turn around to glare at Hakim for being a baby. “Fast?” Papa asked, an innocent misunderstanding. “Well, if you say so.” The reins snapped, and with a triumphant neigh, the white stallion took off. Hakim screamed the whole way, but Tidon leaned back into his father’s chest, allowing the wind to buffet him, feeling free and calm. Papa seemed to notice Tidon’s blissful expression, because he grinned down at him. “Having fun?” He asked over Hakim’s screaming and the wind. Tidon nodded. “Good. Maybe we’ll convince your brother yet, yeah?” They road through the city streets, dashing by pedestrians who cursed them before they could register who it was that came speeding by. Papa took them out of the city, through the open gates. Tidon frowned. Hadn’t Papa promised Mum he’d be showing them the city? Out into the country city they went, until they final slowed to a canter. They’d arrived at an old ruin, barely more than blocks of ancient, worn stone and toppled pillars. Papa slid off the horse, and lifted both boys down. Hakim was crying, and it took Papa a moment to calm him down. Tidon just stared, not sure why Hakim was such a baby. Once Hakim was settled, from his saddlebag, hanging from the horse’s saddle, Papa withdrew a long bundle of cloth. “This is an old Sword-Singer outpost.” Papa said, approaching the ruin, then turning to face his sons. “Couple thousand years old, it’s seen some better days. Ya two know what sword-singer is?” “Sword master, usually from Yokuda.” Hakim proudly answered. Papa nodded. “Do we know any sword-singers?” Hakim frowned. His studying didn’t teach him that. “Uncle-Master Ishien.” Tidon answered after a moment. Papa had explained that Ishien was special, in that he was both to Papa, so he’d instructed the kids to call Ishien so. Papa smiled at Tidon, giving him his own nod. “Normally, Ishien’d teach you the Way, but he only trains those six and up. You boys still got a bit. But al Din’s start early.” He unrolled the bundle of cloth, producing three wooden swords, one scaled to size for an adult man, but the other two were small and looked much lighter. Papa stuck the longer sword through his belt, and tossed the shorter ones to Tidon and Hakim. They both didn’t catch them, but Hakim somehow managed to hit himself in the face trying to grab his. Tidon picked up his practice sword, and balanced it in his hand. He held the blade pointed out, and balanced himself to compensate for the added weight. It felt good. Hakim awkwardly held his, blade pointed directly towards the sky. “Alright, Hakim, you want to go first?” Papa asked. Hakim nodded, and Papa beckoned he approach. “Sword held in front of you.” Papa demonstrated. “Right foot back, left foot forward, knees slightly bent. Always keep proper position. Never lower your sword to an enemy.” Hakim nodded, mimicking Papa. Once done, Papa stepped up close to Hakim, and took his own ready stance. “Alright, now hit me.” Hakim swung out, and tapped Papa’s leg. “Harder.” Hakim swung with a little more force. “Harder. Come on, hurt me.” Hakim chopped again, wooden sword thumping against Papa’s leg. “Ya sure you’re not a girl, Hakim?” Hakim made a face and swung the blade full force into Papa’s leg, all his body weight behind it. Papa moved his leg out of the way, and Hakim fell flat on his face. “Oww…” Hakim moaned. “You’re alright.” Papa said, scooping Hakim up and setting him on his feet, and knelt before his son. “You got off balance. Get back in your position.” Hakim’s lip quivered. “I don’t want to play anymore.” Papa’s face was unreadable, but as Tidon had the opportunity to be the observer for a moment, something about him just seemed… sad. Like something really special had been taken from him. The way Tidon felt when the maid had accidently thrown away his favorite soldier. “That’s alright, Hakim.” Papa grinned, pecking the prince on the forehead. “Go over to Whistles. If you can get the sugar cubes out of the pouch, I bet he’ll play with you. You can even have one. I probably gotta book in the bag too, if you’re interested.” Hakim smiled widely. “Thanks, papa!” He whirled around and dashed to the horse, dropping his practice sword as he went. Papa stood and approached Tidon. “You still good to go, Big Boy?” Tidon nodded, dropping into the combat stance Papa had shown Hakim. His father grinned. “Right heel of the ground.” Papa went through the same thing with Tidon as Hakim did, and fell three times before he managed to swing full force and keep his balance, but he didn’t want Papa to look at him the same way he’d looked at Hakim. “Nice one, Tidon.” Papa said, once he’d gotten the hang of it. “Now take a step by shoving off your back foot. Alright, now a step back by shoving off your front foot.” He had Tidon step a few more times, and then they were onto sparing. “I’ll teach you real moves later. Right now, I want you to get comfortable with it. Step an attack, always step and have your blow land at the same time.” Tidon nodded, raised his sword, stepped and swung at his father. Papa rebuffed it, and nodded. “Again.” Tidon swung from the other direction. Papa easily knocked the attack aside. “Again.” Tidon advanced, stepping and swinging. Papa slapped two aside, in a row, having to move a bit faster as they picked up speed. “Chain them together, make me work for it.” Papa urged. “Use your big boy muscles, come on.” Tidon slashed wildly, which seemed to amuse Papa. “Control yourself, come on.” He chopped low for Papa’s legs, and the brought it up high to try and get his chest. “You’ve gotta want it! Get mean! Grrr!” Tidon swung furiously, hacking away at Papa’s sword, trying to desperately disarm him, realizing it wasn’t work. He needed to bring him down to his level. Tidon jumped, and rammed his shoulder into his father’s waist. “Oh no!” Papa gasped, falling to the ground, and landing on his back. “How did you do that?” Tidon hurried around Papa’s prone form and slammed his wooden sword into Papa’s to force it from his hand. Tidon and Papa stared at each other for a moment. Papa was grinning. “You let me win.” Tidon decided after a moment. “Me?” Papa touched a hand to his chest. “That would be dishonest, Ty, and honesty’s a virtue or something like that.” “You’re smiling.” “So are you.” Tidon realized his face had broken into an uncontrollable grin. He tried to force it back to a straight line, but his was breathing heavily, his blood rushing, and the muscles of his face seemed determined to stay as they were. “I want to come here every day.” Tidon told his father. “Not every day.” Papa laughed, sitting up. “But whenever I can find the time.” Tidon tried to frown at him, but couldn’t. “Did you let me win?” “Maybe.” Papa grinned wider. “Maybe not.” “You’re not going to tell me?” Tidon asked, lowering his sword. “Well, maybe you’ll be good enough to find out for yourself one day. That day, you’ll just know.” ---- The great hall of Gilane stretched before Crimson, as he turned to face his son. “Hello, Tidon.” He replied, pulling the mask from his face and tossing it aside. The Warden of Taneth stood in the center of the hall, cape draped down his back, red lacquered armor polished and shining. He was a handsome blend of Crimson’s and Juliette’s features, her large eyes coupled with the angular lines of Crimson’s jaw and cheek bones, giving Tidon an intense, stern look. “Surprised they got you out of retirement. Surprised even more the uniform fits.” “Oh, come on, I’ve not put on that much weight. And no one got me out of retirement, I’ve come here because you need me.” “I do?” Tidon cocked a brow. “To talk ya out of this. It’s right crazy what you’ve done here, Tidon. War to, what, unify Hammerfell under the al Din crown? You’d be creating more problems than yer fixing, big boy.” “Problems that don’t matter in the long run. This will be my legacy, father. A unified Hammerfell. Not a coalition of kings among two factions. But one kingdom, under one ruler. The greatest Empire the Redguards will ever see.” “Oh yeah, brilliant that. You come up with ‘at after injecting Skooma into yer brain, or after a few days of just deciding to become crazy?” “You know I’m not insane.” “That’s what scares me.” They were silent, staring across the hall at each other. Tidon looked away for a moment. “Did you bring the Keshik?” “What do you think?” “I think it was a ploy to distract me.” Crimson was silent, staring at his son. “What did I do wrong, Tidon?” He asked. “What could I have done that made you think this is right?” TIdon narrowed his eyes. “What you did wrong?” Tidon spread his arms wide. “This is much your creation as it is mine. It was you who taught to always do what is necessary. It was you who told me strive for the best I could. It was you who showed the importance of honing oneself, of leading by example, and not letting anyone keep you down.” “I never would’ve done this.” Crimson said softly. “This isn’t me, Tidon. I also taught you to value life above all else, to do what was right first, and to give everyone a second chance to prove themselves.” Tidon grimaced. “Well maybe I only listened when I thought it suited me.” “I understand why you’re upset, Tidon. You think Taneth should be yours.” “You have eleven children more fit for the throne than Hakim.” Tidon said. “If you had only one great failing among many, it’s that you set the crown upon his head and not another’s. Even if not me, then Qadara or Aleera. What’s come over the last two years, and what will come, is your fault for naming Hakim heir.” Crimson shrugged. “Maybe in part. But it’s mighty irresponsible to lay that blame on me. You’re your own people. I raised you as best I could. Not the best parent, but I loved all of you equally, I still do. And I tried so hard to make you all understand that.” “I understand it, father.” Tidon said, reaching up and fastening his cape, letting it fall to the floor. “Which is going to make what comes next so much harder. But not hard enough.” Crimson watched stonily as Tidon reached for his sword. “Don’t.” Crimson whispered, not loud enough for Tidon hear. “Please.” Metal screamed in the silence of the great hall as Tidon’s long-bladed sword left its sheath. Crimson mechanically reached up and undid his own cloak, letting it soundlessly fall to the ground. He touched his hand to the pommel of his scimitar, before reluctantly drawing it, and then unstrapping his sword belt so it fell away. “Finally we see whose better.” Tidon murmured. The Warden took quick strides down the Great Hall, footsteps echoing. Crimson raised his sword and advanced to meet him. The orichalcum of Tidon’s blade met the ebony of Crimson’s in a resounding clang as the Archer raised his sword to slap aside an overhead strike. Tidon advanced a step striking low, and Crimson’s blade twisted, whooshing through the air to deflect the strike. The song began, as the blades began a duet, rapping against each other in lightning quick strokes, one after the other. Tidon advanced in a flurry of attacks, an uppercut strike, followed by stab from the left that lead into a vicious close range slash. Crimson retreated step by step, blocking Tidon blow for blow, his footwork so rhythmic he could’ve been about to break into dance. Tidon side-stepped around Crimson’s guard driving his blade inward, and Crimson dodged in a move almost too ambitious for one of his age, so that the Warden whiffed air. Crimson retaliated by striking Tidon across his chestplate, the starting move of a maneuver to take down an armoured opponent. The sword left a scrape in the armor, causing Tidon to stumble backwards. Crimson got in close, driving the sword’s pommel into the area under Tidon’s left ear, slamming his carotid artery. Tidon grunted falling back onto his heels to get away, becoming unbalanced. Crimson brought the sword around and raked it across Tidon’s armor thigh, the force of the blow nearly sending Tidon to his knee, and further disorienting him. Crimson brought the pommel up again from there, to slam it into Tidon’s chin. The Warden’s off hand caught Crimson’s wrist before he could make contact. Crimson struggled to complete the blow, but Tidon’s grip was rock solid. They locked gazes. The tempo of the fight changed. “Don’t you know anything knew?” Tidon asked. He slammed his weight against Crimson’s arm, causing the Archer to jab himself in the eye with the pommel of his own sword. Crimson reeled, stars dancing in his vision and blinded, as Tidon brought the blade up in an arch and down on his head. Crimson stepped to the side, jerking his head of the way first, and then his body, but Tidon’s sword caught his shoulder, grazing him and cutting a hole in his uniform. Crimson disengaged, glancing at his bleeding shoulder, the trickle of blood steady. He hadn’t been wounded in over thirty years. It hurt. Tidon came at him at him cutting a wide arc. Crimson knocked the attack side, retaliating in strike for Tidon’s shoulder. The man leaned into it, letting the blade of the sword harmlessly scratch his armor, and then sending his own stroke Crimson’s way. The Archer slapped it upward, but Tidon twisted the blade in his grip, and brought the flat of it down, clubbing Crimson on the side of the head. The Archer went down, and took the fall, rolling to across his shoulders to get away, and then rising to his feet, bleeding from the scalp. Crimson advanced this time, slashing for Tidon’s waist. He parried, but Crimson arched the sword around, and swung at Tidon’s shoulder on the other side of his body. Tidon managed to catch that one on his hilt, but Crimson had gotten in close, and used the proximity to force both their swords upwards. Tidon’s eyes were locked on the crossed swords, and he didn’t notice Crimson stepping closer and using his raised arms to ram an elbow into Tidon’s nose. The Warden reeled back, but since their blades were locked at the hilts, Crimson could take advantage of Tidon being off balance. He jerked the swords backwards himself, so that Tidon’s face walked right into a headbutt, the second blow to his nose. There was a pop, and it immediately began to gush blood. Tidon tried to pry his sword free, and Crimson let him, whilst simultaneously shoving his blade against Tidon’s, so that his son’s own pull brought him off balance. Crimson closed the gap again to let off a chain of attacks. Crimson, bracing one hand on the flat of his scimitar near it’s point, slammed it into Tidon’s side, switched his stance by bringing his right foot forwards, then slammed it again into Tidon’s other side. The Warden groaned in pain, his armor not so much protecting him from the blunt force trauma of that, and attempted to chop downwards and catch Crimson’s head with the edge of the blade. Crimson brought his sword upwards, still holding it with two hands, and Tidon’s attack bounced off it. Crimson fell back step, but Tidon pressed his attack. Crimson brought his sword upwards in arcs to slap away Tidon’s repeated chops towards his head. Tidon got wise and, on the third block, he let his sword slide down the length of Crimson’s blade, skin of the hilt, and snuck a vicious slice in on the back of Crimson’s forearm. Crimson disengaged, trying to see the damage, but Tidon didn’t let up. He drove a blow towards Crimson’s side and he twisted out of the way. Tidon anticipated this, having baited the move, and stepped directly into where Crimson was dodging. He drove a kick directly into the Archer’s knee, just as the man was stepping to the side, essetenially causing maximum damage as Crimson literally walked into the kick. Crimson gasped in pain, stumbling backwards as his knee was hyperextended. He went down, his injured leg stretched out before him, and landing on both hands and a knee, his sword held flat to the ground by his palm. Tidon paced around him, like a vulture circling carion, rotating the wrist of his sword arm so that his weapon flashed in the light. Crimson was unsure why he didn’t just finish it. Maybe Tidon wasn’t beyond hope. Maybe he could still prove something to him. Crimson shoved himself to his feet, his left leg limp as he put all his weight on his right. Tidon stepped towards to kick Crimson’s knee a second time, since the Archer was clearly off-balance, but Crimson swung out with his sword, caught Tidon’s ankle, knocking his leg out from under him. The Warden became instantly horizontal, hitting the ground on his back with a metallic thud. Tidon tried to sit up, but Crimson stood over him leveled the point of his sword at Tidon’s throat. “It’s over, Tidon. Don’t get up.” The Warden’s eyes became angry. “Wrong.” Tidon’s wrist flicked, and he drove the upper portion of his sword through Crimson’s thigh, before drawing back out again. The Archer made a noise of pure agony, collapsing onto his knee. Tidon came to his feet, furious at having been bested. His sword fly over his head and came down towards Crimson’s. The Archer brought his scimitar up, one hand on the flat of the blade to support it. Tidon’s slammed his sword down onto Crimson’s causing the Archer to flinch as the force of his blow traveled down his body. Tidon furiously brought the sword up and slammed it down on the scimitar again, Crimson nearly buckling under the blow. The longsword rose a third time, and came crashing down. The ebony scimitar shattered, pieces of metal raining down to the ground with little plinks of nose, as the force of the blow send Crimson sliding backwards across the floor. Tidon approaching him, his breath coming quick. The Archer thought fast on his feet. Pulling an arrow from the quiver on his back, he threw it at Tidon. The Redguard caught it, looking confused. “What was that—“ The tip exploded in some kind of black, noxious powder, enveloping Tidon, a dark cloud forming where the Warden had once stood. Crimson stared at the cloud for a moment, before dragging himself backwards across the floor, struggling to rise to his feet, turning from the cloud. It was supposed to disorient people, one of his many trick arrows, and maybe it could buy him some time. Just as he thought so, there was a roar of fury behind him as Tidon came charging out of the cloud of powder, the cloud breaking around him. Crimson, completely defenseless, looked back at his son, unable to do anything, only watch. Tidon brought his sword over his head, shouting at the top of his lungs, arm’s fully extended to bring the battle to a conclusion. “If this is what you want then do it!” Crimson shouted up at him. Tidon hesitated, resolve faltering. There was the twang of a bow somewhere in the hall, and then a thud as an arrow sprouted from the center of Tidon’s stomach where the breastplate met the waistline. The Redguard glanced down at the arrow, looking confused, before the sword slowly slipped from his hands, clattering to the ground, and he bonelessly dropped onto his back as his legs fell out from under him. Crimson was frozen in shock, before frantically climbing to his feet, grunting and groaning in pain. “Tidon!” He rushed to his son. The Warden lay flat on his back, limbs sprawled, staring up at the ceiling. Crimson knelt beside him. “Tidon.” Crimson whispered, shaking him. Tidon looked over at him, more confused than in pain. “I’ve been shot.” He noted. “You’re going to be alright.” Crimson told him. "It's not even a big arrow. You could get up and walk this off if ya wanted to." Tidon chuckled dryly, the moment becoming surreal. “I don’t think so, father. I can’t feel below the waist. Can’t feel anything, really.” Crimson glanced at the arrow. Jokes aside, it went deep, through his stomach, probably into his spine. “I’ve seen wounds like this on men. They don’t make it.” The Warden continued. “Maybe-“ “Don’t. Don’t waste this on false hope.” Tidon looked at him seriously, understanding something about this moment Crimson hadn’t. Crimson’s son was more of a soldier than he ever could be. “I want you to know I couldn’t have killed you. Not my own father…” They both didn’t talk for a moment. Even though Crimson now knew these were the last words he’d be having with his son, he couldn’t think of something to say. “Is…” Crimson took a deep breath. “Is there anything you want me to do, Tidon? Tidon nodded, staring back up at the ceiling. “I have a daughter.” Crimson was silent. He had grandchildren, although he never spent much time with them, but he hadn’t known Tidon had any. “Illegitimate.” Tidon added, correctly guessing Crimson’s confusion. “I’ll find her.” Crimson promised. Tidon nodded, accepting this. Crimson stared down at his son’s face, watching as the stern, serious boy, the boy who was always trying to understand the world around him, the boy who never laughed at joke, the boy who could be counted on if you needed something done, who never disappointed you because it wasn't in Tidon to give up or disappoint people; Crimson watched as that boy accepted his own death. When Tidon looked back to Crimson, his eyes were hazy and unfocused, a dazed smile on his face. “I beat you.” “You did.” Crimson agreed, smiling back. “Got me good a few times. You’re better.” “The best?” “Yes.” Crimson said, voice cracking. “The best swordsman alive.” “Best swordsman alive…” Tidon repeated, smiling, looking back up at the ceiling. The smile didn’t fade, but the light behind his eyes did. Crimson knelt there, staring at his dead son’s face. He didn’t feel like moving. He felt like lying right down beside Tidon and dying too. A figure dropped down from the ceiling somewhere in the back of the room. Silent footsteps came up behind him. “This needed to be done.” The quiet voice of Raine said. Crimson didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge her. He didn’t even seem to have heard her. “Your own brother, Raine.” He murmured suddenly. “Your own brother. What would your mother think…” “Tidon was a threat. It's better this way.” Crimson said nothing. Two hearts beat for three people in the vast emptiness of the Great Hall. “He was going to kill you.” Raine said after a moment. “Get out.” Crimson whispered, looking over his shoulder at her, not wanting to hear anymore, not wanting to see her anymore. “Dad-” “''Get out!”'' Crimson screamed at her, and there could not have been more disgust and hatred fit into any two words. Raine stood there quietly a moment, before turning and leaving. The hall was quiet. That was good. Tidon needed quiet. Crimson turned back to his son. Tidon was smiling. Tidon never smiled. ---- “Come on, boys, we’re leaving.” Papa said, leading Tidon back over to Whistles and Hakim. “Already?” Tidon asked, disappointed. Papa pointed at the sun. It was on the opposite side of the sky than when they had come out here. “Good, I’m bored.” Hakim said. “Here, let me get you boys up onto Whistles.” Papa lifted Hakim up first, returning him to his original position, and then Tidon to his. “Let me just grab the-” Papa froze as he turned around, noticing something. “What?” Tidon asked. Papa shook his head. “I’m going to go look over there. I, uh, think that rock looks mighty pretty. Whistles is gunna take a lookout for you and protect you from the, uh, rocks.” Tidon frowned, not thinking that explanation made much sense. Papa looked back to grin at the both of them, before heading behind a collapsed section of the ruin, out of sight. The ruin was silent now. Tidon smiled to himself, still excited and full of energy after the last few hours of sword practicing. Papa had said it came naturally to him, which made him feel good, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. He’d seen Papa’s real sword, the black metal one, and wondered if he could someone get his own. Papa’d brought it, the sword. Hadn’t he set it somewhere? He stared down at the grass, looking for Papa’s sword, and realized what Papa had noticed. The practice swords were missing. “I’m going to see where Papa went.” Tidon said. “What?” Hakim exclaimed. “No, we’ll get in trouble.” Tidon started scooching off of Whistle’s broad shoulders, trying to swing his legs around so he could slip to the ground. “It’s really high. You’re going to fall and die.” Hakim warned. Tidon didn’t managed to get his legs around, and fell from the horse head first. Luckily, he managed to bring his arms up and turn slightly in the air, and only landed mildly painfully on the grass. “Tidon…” Hakim whined. The little boy took off across the grass, to the ruin. The outpost, while all above ground, was a maze of rubble, especially to one of his statue. Tidon decided to get a vantage point and climbed a demolished building, of some sort. At the top, he squatted down, scanning the environment. He spotted Papa. His father had pressed an Imperial man up against a column, and was holding the edge of his sword to the man’s throat. Tidon scooted closer, sliding down the pile of rubble, and slipped into a crack between two pieces of stone, so he’d have a hiding place, and was close enough to listen. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” Papa noted. “Ya get busy whacking yerself off ta how cool you think you are?” The Imperial had a scar across his face, dark shorn hair, and a light black beard. He wore the armor of a city guard, and smiled back at Papa, despite the weapon to his throat. “Other things occupy my time than you, Archer.” “Ya say that, but Diagna got me wise ta why ya want me. Man, if ya wanted my magic spirit juice, we coulda come to some kind of arrangement. I ain’t even using it.” “You fail to see the larger picture. You are a vessel of Complexity. It is my duty to destroy you.” “Well, you know what, I’m feeling destroyed, alright. I think ya won, pal. Why don’t we just shake on it and call it even.” The Imperial smiled. “I see I will not beat you in this medium.” “Oh no you don’t, ya darn wanker-” The Imperial man vanished. Tidon blinked. He was just gone. “Never gets any not-weirder.” Papa sighed, sheathing his sword, and heading back towards the horse. Tidon was busy processing what he saw, when he realized he’d get in a lot of trouble if Papa got back and say he wasn’t there. He squirmed, desperately trying to escape his crack, to no avail. He’d gotten stuck. Well now he was definitely going to get in trouble, unless Papa forgot he was here and left him to starve in a hole. That would be bad. Tidon was in there for a minute or two more, thoroughly uncomfortable, until he heard his father’s shouts, coming back towards him. “Tidon! Tidon!” There was something wrong with his voice. Tidon couldn’t put a finger on it. “Tidon!” His voice was nearing borderline hysteria. Tidon realized, with surprise, that Papa was scared. Papa never got scared either. His father’s voice grew closer. “Tidon!” “Here!” Tidon piped up. Papa froze outside, his footsteps abruptly stopping. “Where?” “Between these two rocks.” Papa appeared into view, standing over him. He leaned down, seized Tidon’s shoulders and fished him out. He set Tidon down firmly, and immediately dropped to eye level with him. His father’s face was all wrong. His eyes were too large, his mouth open as his breath came to fast. He was very scared, panicky. Tidon knew a tongue thrashing was coming. Instad, he suddenly pulled Tidon into a tight hug, nearly squishing him. He had been scared over Tidon? Tidon unexpectantly felt very warm, at knowing how much he meant to his father. “Don’t ever run off on me like that again.” Papa warned him, pulling back. “I scared you.” “You did. I thought something had happened to you.” Tidon smiled slightly. “I can sword fight now. No one’s going to take me anywhere.” He added, thinking of the Imperial man. Papa smiled as well, one corner of his mouth upturning. “Good. “Because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” END OF PART 7 Chapter 8 Category:Blog posts Category:Stories Category:Twelve Stars of Taneth